Porpoise Song
by Adema
Summary: The wacky misadventures of Ross when he experiments with weed during his highschool days. Features Monica and Rachel. PG-13 for language and drug use.


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**Porpoise Song**

Ross raced upstairs to his bedroom the moment the door shut, trying to avoid catching the eye of his mom, as Mrs. Gellar was sitting at the kitchen table with her coupons, a pair of scissors and a condensing glass of iced tea, placed dead in the center of a coaster. Even if she couldn't possibly know what he had on him, he felt the small plastic baggy throbbing in his pants, screaming out somehow like a flashing neon sign in the city of Vegas... The city of sin. The door shut behind him to his sanctuary. His clothes laid across the floor of his bedroom, crumpled, slightly used, and mingling with used underwear and socks. Not necessarily a pigsty but enough to make Monica recoil every time she had to enter into it, and certainly not quietly.

Ross easily fished into his pockets, taking a quick look behind himself. He'd made it; everyone in the house was completely oblivious. When he returned his eyes back to the object in his right hand, he just sat and watched it for a moment.

"So cool!" he muttered to himself before his charming yet somehow painful smile eased across his teddy-bear face. Before another second passed with the baggy in his hand, the door started to open and Ross shoved the bag back into his pocket so quickly that it caught Monica's attention.

"What is that?" she asked, carrying a large sandwich in her hand that was dropping bits of lettuce and mayonnaise-covered chunks of tomato all over his carpet.

"Monica, you're spilling your sandwich all over my sanctuary!" Ross cried out, both offended and also looking for a way to bring in new focus.

Monica laughed with mayonnaise on the corner of her mouth that was also filled with a bite of her lunch, "Your _sanctuary..."_ she mocked. "More like your _stink_-uary." She then cracked up so hard at her own joke that she spit out some of the food she was chewing on that managed to snag Ross's cheek.

Ross angrily wiped away the food from his face.

"Frorry," she said. "What are you doing in here, anyway?"

"What does it look like!" he said, pointing to his dinosaur sets that he'd not messed with since last year. He'd lost a lot of interest in building dinosaurs from factory-produced parts. It was like an equestrian trying to accept a carousel as an alternative. But regardless, he figured in on it being enough at the moment. Monica didn't buy it.

"You have nothing left to build, loser! You glued them all together."

"They discovered _new ones_!" he said, sitting down at his desk where he tried making use of the left-over pieces of the set that the connectible parts snapped off of.

"So what's this one?"

Ross rolled his eyes. He'd long ago gave over ordering Monica out of his room, and intentionally left it a disaster so she might be repelled by it, but Judy demanded he clean it a few days ago, which it was slowly recovering from. Not quite messy enough to keep away his sister. So for now he'd just have to put up with her till she was bored.

Since he had built all the known dinosaurs, he racked his brain for a name that sounded legit, giving Monica too much credit on knowing what the difference was anyway. To her they all looked like the Tyrannosaurus Rex.

"Ka... laffadorus."

"KalaffaDORKus, you mean!" then she began laughing at her own joke again as she, so far, was her own best audience... and only audience.

"Yeah, Kalaffadorkus, you're right. That's exactly what I mean... GET OUT!"

"God, you're so lame!"

"And you're fat!" he muttered to himself. He continued to work on his parts' skeleton until she shut the door. Then he checked to see if the coast was clear, and reached into his pocket again. At that moment, he'd been anxious to try it out... but then the earlier instance reminded him of something important: Monica was terrible to just pummel through the door unexpectedly, and could very well walk in on him while... No. It might not be worth it.

He stuffed the bag of marijuana back into his pocket, deciding that he'd just return it to the kid that sold it to him and get his money back. After all, it's the same as any product return.

The next day just before school let out, Ross finally tracked down Larry, the kid who sold the marijuana to him.

"Ummm, hi, Ross Gellar."

"Oh, hey man, you coming back for more?"

"Uh, no. Th-That's the thing... I don't think I'm going to use it. So can I just get my money back?"

Larry just gave him a questioned look, then said, "Do I look like a fucking JC Penney to you?"

"Ah, c'mon, man. I paid for it, I'm not using it. I have it right here. If you just give me my money back..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Is there a sign on my ass that reads, 'the customer is always right?'"

"But?"

"Do I have customer service above my forehead?"

"No you don't, but—"

"You bought it from me, I don't give a flying shit what you do with it. Run it up your yuppy ass for all I fucking care, but know this... All sales are final, asshole. Ya dig?"

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"I'll let you know as soon as my thriving business gets a hotline. Let me know if you ever want more." At that he left and Ross was stuck with his purchase. He had a choice, either smoke it or get rid of it. But it was 20 dollars. He didn't want to waste 20 dollars.

Then he had a thought, "Maybe I can sell it to someone else." Still, his rational, scientific mind thought a little beyond just getting his money back; maybe he could try to earn a profit.

As the last class of the day was getting ready to let out, he started to sweat. If he sold it to someone else, not only would he be a drug-user, he'd be a drug dealer. What if he tried to sell it to someone and it turned out to be a cop? Or the person he tried to sell it to told on him?

What else could he do though? Actually smoke it?

_last resort_, he told himself. _Last resort. For now, I haven't went through all of my options._ The bell suddenly rang, so he grabbed his books and headed out. Over by the basketball court were several juniors. Ross smoothed his curly hair then approached them. He thought of the same thing Larry said to him when he was approached.

"Basketball, huh?" he said with a laugh. One of the boys looked at him funny then continued to play.

"Would any of you—" Suddenly one of them rushed in front of him to grab the ball, and cut Ross off.

"Would you guys—" Just as he tried asking again, another made a successful slam dunk into the basket, once more cutting him off as the rest of the players reacted victoriously.

"I have a little—"

"Man, could you stand a little over there?" one of them asked him as he was getting ready to take position for the next play.

Ross just blushed from embarrassment and decided to give up. "Um, never mind. Have a good game." He walked off, carrying his books in front of his chest as he was in too much of a hurry to stuff them in the backpack he was wearing.

"Who was that guy?"

"I dunno, some dweeb."

"Hey, you wanna smoke some after the game?" the guy in the center asked.

"Why, you got grass?" said one.

"Not on me, but I plan on scoring some later. Why you know someone?"

"Not me." One of them caught the ball and went to try and make a basket.

Ross walked on till he saw someone standing by the curb alone. He saw this as opportune and approached the guy.

"Hey man, you like to party?"

The man turned his attention toward Ross.

"Oh?" he said, then his eyes wandered over Ross suggestively. "Yes, baby. If you got the time, George has the lime." Then he put his hand on Ross's upper arm.

"D'you hear a horn?" Ross suddenly said.

George looked around, a look on his face like he was listening for something.

"I hear a horn. That's-probably-my-dad-okay-good-bye!" He walked away as fast as he could.

Ross ran through the backdoor again when he got home. _Marijuana?_ he wondered? _Gays? Has our school always been this depraved?_ Monica was in the kitchen making something to eat. She was making cookies and a large bowl of popcorn. It was Friday night—_Friday night_!? Ross stopped dead center. Rachel—_Rachel_ was here.

He smoothed his curls down, even though they popped back into place more unruly yet.

"Mmmm, those smell good," he heard her say from in the den. His stomach felt like goo that instant, and he wanted to run away before she saw him... saw the depravity of his school leech onto him and suck him down into its tumultuous pit of sickness. Before he realized it, she was standing there in the kitchen, bending over to smell the cookies as Monica was taking them out. His eyes crept over to her shapely and perfect womanly backside, and he felt a rise of heat through him.

"...Hi, Rachel," he muttered out.

"Hey, Ross," she said, not even looking at him. _She barely knows I'm alive_._ Well, what do you expect?_ he scolded himself. _If you grew yourself a set of balls or do something more than mumble she just might actually look right at you._ He tried to turn on some charm right then, where his expression lightened, and he smiled a little at her. She noticed it for a moment as she glanced, and she smiled a bit at him, but he could tell that she forced it.

_Good job there, bonehead. You're making her uncomfortable. Do something cute. That'll impress her. _

He smiled with a slight chuckle, reaching over for the cookies Monica just pulled out of the oven.

"So, Rachel, have you decided on what school you're going to?"

"Um, not really, no. I'm a junior. I don't think I'm on the deadline yet."

"Deadline..." he said with a breezy chuckle, "that's funny, you're funny. Maybe you can go into something like that... like clown... college..." He Realized what he'd said but it was too late and Rachel was not amused.

"Well, it can't be worse than paleontology school."

He laughed a little more, disguising the effect her zing had on him. "Yeah, paleontology school..." he said as he took a bite, just then Rachel turned around to ask him something when he suddenly spit chewed cookie in her face.

"HOT!" he cried, and lunged over to the fridge to guzzle down milk.

"God, ROSS!" she squealed and went over to the sink to wash off his cookie projectile. "Ewe, that's so gross! GOD!"

Ross was still guzzling milk but took the carton from his mouth long enough to say sorry to Rachel... again... always.

"Don't you have a KalaffaDORKus to construct?" Monica said.

"MONICA!" Ross cried in horror.

"What?!" she asked. Ross just huffed up and stormed out of the room.

"A what?" Rachel asked.

"Kalaffadorkus. It's a dinosaur thing."

"Ahhhhhh," Rachel said.

Ross was laying on his bed, upset with his sister, upset with himself. _God, what a loser!_ he thought bitterly. _I don't even exist to her except when I make an idiot out of myself. Then I'm like a neon friggin sign! _

Ross stopped right there. "Neon sign," he asked himself. That reminded him and he reached into his pocket.

The baggy of marijuana was still in there. Right then considerations were bubbling in his head.

"No..." he thought. He was tempted, but also intimidated by the stuff. After all how many horror stories did he hear from his mom and dad growing up about the dangers of drugs.

Still, if it was just one time... Dad would understand if he was just trying to get his money's worth. After all he couldn't give it back... would hate to waste it. Sure, he made a mistake even buying it but it's not like he planned to do it anymore after this. Who would know?

The bag came with papers. Larry could tell this was an amateur. Ross broke some out of the bag and made an attempt to roll a joint. It came out looking really, really fat in the middle and some of it was sticking out at the ends.

He tried it anyway and found a lighter he uses for his chemistry set. He lit the end and a spark of flame ignited the tip of marijuana hanging out of the paper. It made him jump for a second but then he blew the flame out. The tip of the exposed marijuana was glowing red, but nothing else. Regardless, he tried taking a puff. He sucked and sucked at it not really feeling or tasting anything. Was he supposed to? He exhaled and nothing came out.

"Damn it," he muttered, and tried lighting the tip again. It caught then burned down to reveal an orange glowing tip with paper and all. He sucked a drag and felt something. But all he did was puff. He pushed out the smoke with his tongue. It tasted awful, his face crinkled up.

The tip's glow suddenly died and Ross took the lighter to it. This time he thought about inhaling as he lit, and tried it out. He inhaled rather than puff and inhale like one would a cigarette. Fire suddenly flew down his throat and he started hacking. The smoke burned! His eyes turned red and his throat was sore.

The smoke drifted into his eyes, stinging them. The acrid smell gave him a weird feeling. After recovering, he decided to make another go at it. This time he prepared himself for the burn and sucked in. Then he exhaled. Lots of smoke came out with this one. That seemed a little neat. Suddenly more intrigued, he caught the tip again, and smoked it down till it was more than half-way consumed. Before he realized it, something caught his eye. Something dancing. A heaviness came over him. His room... his room was so pretty!

"Wow... Were my walls always this color?" he asked himself, then stood up and inspected it closer. Then he giggled.

Ross smoked down the joint as much as he could till he could no longer hold what was left. By then he was sailing. The colors danced in front of his eyes, everything took on this newfound fascination, his thoughts were wayward and incomprehensible. Rambling on and on and on, from this thought to the next. His attention span was short and confused easily.

At that time, he had on his dad's record that he sometimes listened to in his room at night because it calmed him. Porpoise Song by the Monkees. He liked the Monkees. They were a great band. A really great band. Such a great band.

Suddenly Ross thought about the cookies and the popcorn that Monica had made downstairs. His mouth was watering and he felt like he would kill for some popcorn and cookies. He rose up, less than gracefully and went downstairs, snickering through his nose at every indignant and clumbsy step he took, one at a time.

"I'm so high," he said softly. Then as if to another person went, "Shh, shh, shhhhh!" Then snickered again. The popcorn bowl was of course in the den with Rachel and Monica, but there were two more cookies still on the pan that she took out of the oven, miraculously! He snatched them up now cool and soft and chowed them down. Only two were not enough. He opened the cabinets and started sniffing around for a package of cookies maybe. He found the Oreos and ate them as-is, not even bothering to separate them first. After a few of those, he thought, "I need milk." And went back to the fridge for the milk, but it was half-empty.

"Ah man, who drank all the milk!" He finished what was left, but then got a craving for potato chips.

Monica heard the rustling in the kitchen and came to investigate. After all, if she wasn't doing it, who was???

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, hey...! Monica... My little sister...!" Then he became hung-up on a new thought. "Little. Li...tul. Li—tuuuuuulllle. Man, have you ever noticed how weird that word sounds? Lit-tulle... Lit-tul Leet-tull. Leeeeet-tuuuuuulllllllle." He chuckled a little. "But not as weird as Mon-i-ka. Monnnn-i-kaaaaa. It's like har..._monica_! Harmonica, harrrrmonica."

"What is wrong with you, loser!"

"Nothin," he said suddenly trying to straighten up.

"God, you're acting all weird. Like someone kidnapped your body and an alien is posing as you! Hey you, get out of my brother!"

He then became loose, his voice mellowing down to a forced causality. He scoffed a little then said, "I'm not being weird."

"You are so. If you kidnapped my brother, you have my permission to keep him there for at least a month or so, but after that you'll have to bring him back or else mom and dad might suspect something."

"Oh, fuck off!"

Monica then clasped her hands over her face. She gasped and said, "You just said..."

"Yeah, that's right! I said it. I said fuck. What are you gonna do it about it? Tell Mom and Dad?—Don't tell Mom and Dad."

"I just might, alien! I don't care if that means you have to return my brother before the month is out. No one makes my brother say stuff like that!"

Ross quickly threw away his mellow façade to be replaced by discomfort. "Really? You're gonna tell Mom and Dad?"

"You bet, Alien Ross. And I'll tell them you ate the cookies I saved for them."

"You...? These...? Ah _man_!"

"What's going on in here?" Rachel said as she walked into the kitchen.

"Aliens kidnapped Ross and made him say things that would take Ross straight to hell!"

Rachel gasped. "For real?" She inspected Ross closer, but he didn't like being a freak show. He pushed out of the circle and went back upstairs to his room. Monica followed him and barreled through the door.

She was about to say something continuing where they left off in the kitchen when she stopped in her tracks.

"What smells in here?" she said, but then she gasped once again.

"You smoked pot!"

Ross came at her, signaling hard for her to lower her voice. "The guy wouldn't take it back. I had no choice!" he whispered harshly.

"What the heck made you buy it in the first place, doofus!?"

"I don't know! I just... it was something I hadn't done before. Please don't tell Mom and Dad, Monica, I'm begging you!" He started chewing on his thumbnail.

"I can't keep this from them. Mom and Dad need to know that you've become a pothead. What kind of sister would I be if I let you spiral down into a pit of drugs, ending up on the streets and having sex with men for more pot!"

Ross looked at her funny, then said, "Nooooooo! I'd never do that!" Then he thought for a second... "Would I?"

"I think so!"

"Oh God, I'm a junkie! A male prostitute junkie!" He put his head in his hands, panicked.

"What's going on in here?" Rachel said as she met them in his room at the door.

"An intervention! Ross is a junkie and we're trying to help him."

"A junkie? But, I thought he was an alien."

"So did I, but he was acting weird from all the brain damage he gave himself with pot."

"OH GOD, I HAVE BRAIN DAMAGE!?" Ross cried.

Both Rachel and Monica quickly shushed him.

"Look, it's obvious what you need to do, Ross. You need to flush the pot. Just say no."

"Um, okay. No."

"Ross, you have to! I know you don't want to let go of your monkey—"

Rachel suddenly snickered. Monica looked at her with an annoyed glance, along with Ross.

"But do you really want to wind up prostituting your body for more marijuana?"

Ross suddenly broke down in tears. "No! Oh God, no!"

"Then flush it!"

"But!"

"FLUSH IT, MISTER!"

"OKAY!" he said shaking his hands and his head at the same time. They took the rest of the marijuana and went to the bathroom down the hall on the top floor. Ross dumped the whole bag into the toilet, then flushed.

"Wow, I've never been involved in flushing grass before," Rachel said. "This is really exciting."

"Pa-huh!" Monica said. "This isn't exciting! This is far from exciting. I just saved my brother's life tonight."

"But, what if he starts smoking weed again?"

"No way! I'm through with this stuff forever! I won't touch another joint for as long as I live, I swear it."

Monica hugged Ross right then. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Rachel then hugged him too, but only because it just seemed like the thing to do. Ross melted as soon as she put her arms around him.

"I'm so glad I gave up pot tonight," he said softly. Rachel hugged him enough and started to pull away, but Ross held on to her.

"Uh, Ross?"

"So glad..." he said again.

"Uhhh, Ross. I'm...done hugging you now."

"Are you gonna tell Mom and Dad?"

Monica thought about it. "I dunno."

"Ross, you can let go now..." Rachel continued to say.

"Please, Monica! They don't have to know. I gave it up tonight. I'll never do it again."

Rachel pried herself away finally, and Ross came up to Monica.

"All right, I won't tell them, but on one condition!"

"Anything."

"You can't do it again. You do it again and I'm telling. There's nothing you can say, you can torture me all you like, but nothing will stop me."

"Fine."

"Pinky swear it!"

Ross stuck out his pinky and they intercrossed.

Monica stepped back, looking at Rachel who was watching the entire thing like an attentive audience in the background, just waiting to see what would happen next.

"Okay. It's our little secret. Rach, you can't tell either."

Oooh, ooh! Scout's honor!" she said crossing her fingers. They left the bathroom and Monica was heading back to the den. Just as Rachel and Ross were out in the hallway, she leaned up to him and said, "So do you know where I can score some?"

Ross rolled his eyes.

**End**


End file.
